


If Fate Had Been Just a Bit Different

by queenmidalah



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 08:49:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3243596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenmidalah/pseuds/queenmidalah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sigrid mourns the loss of what could have been after they receive news of the deaths of the sons of Durin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Fate Had Been Just a Bit Different

**Author's Note:**

> I have a larger fic that I will be working on, but I got sucked into the Fili/Sigrid pairing and I needed to get this written first before I start others. Hopefully I didn't get too long winded or rambly. This was meant to only be a drabble.

It seemed that time stood still in the hours that followed the battle that had been dubbed the Battle of the Five Armies. Hours quickly turned to days as Sigrid, daughter of Bard the Dragonslayer and new Lord of Dale, helped in the healing tents for those who were injured during the battle or still recovering from injuries after the dragon had decimated Laketown.

When she wasn’t in the healing tents, she was helping with clean up in various areas, including the regal home that had been her ancestor, Girion’s. The former citizens of Laketown had insisted that Bard’s family take up residence when they looked to Bard as their leader. As the rightful heir in many ways, Bard had grudgingly agreed, and clean up began. 

That was where she was found as a great raven flew towards them in the open air and landed on a nearby, broken, wall. Tied to its leg was a piece of parchment. It had flown from the great mountain, and Sigrid felt her heart start to pound. They had received no real news on any of the dwarves they had met in Laketown. She wondered if this bird would relay that they were all right and beginning the rebuilding process in the Lonely Mountain of Erebor.

Bard stepped over some of the stone wreckage to retrieve the raven’s message. It simply squawked once the missive was unbound and took off, not expecting a response. Sigrid tried to ignore the unpleasant feeling in the pit of her belly as it did, instead turning to her father as he unrolled the parchment.

The silence worried her, and she felt her heart drop as Bain, Tilda, and some of the other villagers that were assisting them with the clean-up, moved over to listen. Bard’s face grew even more grim than usual, lifting his eyes from the parchment to look at them.

“Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, and his heirs, Princes Fíli and Kíli have fallen,” he said, his voice full of remorse. “They were killed in battle against Azog the Defiler.”

Tilda’s chin trembled and she ran forward to wrap her arms around her father, crying into his belly as she clung to him. Bain was rigid with disbelief, unable to move from the news. Gasps of pain and sorrow escaped the villagers who had not known the dwarves, but still grieved their loss.

Sigrid made no noise. She stood still a moment before she spun, lifting her skirts and ran as fast as she could. She barely heard her father calling her name. She raced as quickly as she could to get away from them as fast as possible. She managed to avoid most of the shattered stones from the battle before she started to stumble as she found an out of the way corner to hide in. She curled in on herself, ignoring the pain in her ankle from her last stumble, feeling the tears that had blinded her finally letting go of their hold on her slashes to streak down her cheeks.

A sob finally erupted from her chest as she pressed her face into her knees, sobbing into the fabric of her skirt to muffle the sounds. There had been so much loss, that she thought perhaps it was finally catching up to her upon hearing the news, but she knew better; she knew better because she immediately conjured the memory of clear blue eyes and long wavy gold hair. 

Fíli had barely been in her life but a scant few days, but he had found a way to push into her heart. When she first saw all the dwarves climbing up out of their toilet, she had been intrigued and a bit scared. So many of them had been frightening, while others were distant but friendly all at the same time. The brothers, so regal of bearing as was their uncle, were the most intriguing creatures she had ever met. She had worried for Kíli, seeing how pale he was, but he was putting on a brave front. She saw how quickly Fili had moved to his brother’s side in worry, but also moved to his uncle’s side when planning.

The two barely spoke a few sentences to one another before they were leaving to sneak to the armory, but she had looked into Fíli’s eyes and felt herself getting lost. Despite how grim he felt, he had given her a half-smile that twitched the braids in his beard in an intriguing way. It made her wonder what the significance of Dwarven braids were. 

She was surprised when they were back at her home again after the rest of the company had left, but much like Sigrid would have done had she been him, Fili refused to leave his sick and wounded brother behind. Together they had worked side by side to help relieve Kíli of his pain. Sigrid had stepped out of her house to see where her father had run off to, as well as Bofur, when the orcs had attacked. How she managed to dodge the orcs’ blade when it shoved its way into her house, she would never know. When she was shoved back, she saw a muscular blur go flying past her to slam the orc’s body into the wall with his own. 

It wasn’t until much later that night, after the elves had arrived and dispatched the orcs, that she had a chance to talk to Fíli to thank him. Of course it had also been after she had helped hold his brother down as the female elf, Tauriel, had healed the wound on Kili’s leg with Elven medicine. Fili had waved off her thanks, giving her a soft smile. He told her he was a warrior, it was what he did. Protecting those around him was second nature, but he appreciated her thanks nonetheless. 

She almost thought things would calm down, until Smaug had arrived. It was Fíli who had kept her from falling into the lake as they raced off to safety, taking her hand to help her into the boat and keeping her from toppling into the cold waters as the boat swayed from side to side as they all got in. He also kept her from falling in when Bain took off out of the boat to go help their father.

She had been too frantic with worry to give him a proper send off and wish him all the safety of whatever deities that Dwarves looked to. She had caught his eyes as she looked around for her father and Bain, pausing as he seemed to say so much to her in that one brief glance. With a single nod, he turned back to pushing the boat into the water with his fellow company. 

Sigrid felt herself sobbing as she realized she never got to say good-bye. That she would never get the chance to know him. And how she had wanted to. In that one passing glance, she realized that she had wanted to know this exiled Prince of Erebor. She realized that she had wanted to walk the halls of the Lonely Mountain with him, letting him show her around his home, even as she would bring him back to Dale so she could show him hers.

She did not know if she sobbed because her heart was breaking because she loved, or because they had all lost so much over the past few days. She realized she sobbed for what could have been. She had found the young Prince quite attractive, even by human standards, and she would have liked to see if something could have been between them. Even more than anything, she sobbed for the loss of someone she thought could have been a wonderful friend if nothing else. Someone who could understand her sense of loss after losing a parent, not feeling as if she fit in because of the weight on her shoulders, and to being the older sibling that shoulder responsibilities so the younger ones did not have to.

Sigrid sobbed for the potential of so much that was now gone. Not just Fíli, or his kin, but all the Elves and Men that had also lost their lives. She sobbed for the loss of innocence of so many, including her own. For the first time in a long time, Sigrid allowed herself to feel the pain coursing through her soul. 

She heard the crunch of stone beneath someone’s footfalls and lifted her head to see her father. She felt tears begin anew as her father knelt and settled himself beside her, drawing her into his arms. She turned and buried her face so that her sobs were muffled against his shoulder. She felt his fingers smoothing over her hair and back in comfort. She let herself curl into her father as he comforted her.

Bard said nothing, not even a shushing noise, as he held Sigrid to him. He was not entirely certain why the news of the Durin heirs falling in battle was hitting her so hard, but it didn’t matter to him. Something had forced his strong girl’s resolve to break and all he wanted to do was take away her pain. He felt Sigrid relax against him, her body going lax. He glanced down to see she had exhausted herself into sleep against him. He shifted and rose, picking her up to carry her back to their home.

As he tucked Sigrid into her bed, removing her shoes, he began to wonder if perhaps in the short days the Dwarves had been with them if Sigrid had started to notice things a young woman would about the opposite sex. Even as it was, young Tilda had chattered away the past few days about seeing her new friends again amongst the Dwarves. Bain was now looking after the heartache of the littlest, for she admitted she had a soft spot for Kíli who had taken to telling her stories when he had started feeling better until the dragon had them all parting ways. To lose a friend so quickly after making one was painful.

He straightened and moved over to the door that led out of Sigrid’s room. He paused to look back at her. A soft frown formed as he truly saw Sigrid as a young woman and not the little girl she once was.

His children were growing up, and somehow he possibly had missed when Sigrid had grown up. She still had a year and a half until she was of majority amongst Men, but he could still remember when the worst thing he had to worry about that made her cry was Bain hitting her with a toy, or her falling and skinning her knee.

He realized that she rarely cried since the loss of his wife. She had, of course, cried when her mother died, but after that she had quietly picked herself up and became the lady of the house. She quickly became homemaker to her father and mother to her siblings. In that moment when his wife had fallen ill, never to recover, Sigrid had stopped being his little girl and had become a small adult. 

Perhaps the tears she had finally shed today hadn’t been just for the three Dwarves, but also for herself. For the loss of what so many other children experienced, because Sigrid never had. It was in that moment that Bard realized that the one she mourned the most of the Dwarves was the one most like her. He felt his heart constrict as he felt the loss of the heirs of Durin as well. He grieved for their loss and he grieved for his daughter’s lost childhood and innocence. Like Sigrid, he grieved for everything that could have been, had fate just been a bit different.


End file.
